Playful Antics and the Unexpected Question
by theanonymouspen
Summary: Got the idea for this fic from a random daydream that struck me yesterday. Arthur and Eames being in an established relationship post-Inception—Arthur being uncharacteristically playful at one point. No real plot, just pure fluff. Rated T just to be safe. Oneshot. Slash. Don't like, then don't read. Reviews loved!


**Author's Note: **So I had the most random daydream where Arthur is getting dressed and he gives Eames a somewhat cocky, flirtatious smile as he adjusts his tie. I also pictured them living in a very modern apartment with a red, black, and white color scheme with hints of brown.

Mostly though, I was really itching to get out a oneshot, and one I was working on for a different fandom kind of hit an unexpected block that I'm still trying to figure out how to get around. Anyway, hope readers enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it! Reviews are most appreciated!

**Warning: **This is my first attempt at humor. Ever. Apologies in advance if it's awful. Please do feel free to let me know if it is; I find constructive criticism to be most beneficial in improving my writing.

* * *

**Playful Antics and the Unexpected Question**

Five years—and a change in their relationship status—later, Arthur was still ever the serious point man and Eames, in self-declaration of providing the world a great community service, pulled pranks constantly in attempts to break down the thick barrier of ice that his lover always seemed to have up. Eames, of course, didn't always think over his plans thoroughly. As a result, sometimes he ended up suffering unintended consequences.

Like the time he pushed all the clocks in their shared apartment forward a couple hours right before Arthur came home, for example. At that time, Eames hadn't factored in the possibility of their sleeping late, which they did. Nor had he thought about how crabby he'd be upon hearing the alarm of the clock next to their bed go off at 7am, which would have normally been late by their standards since they usually were up by 6 and out within the hour, but Eames had set the clock two hours ahead the night before. So in actuality, it was 5am, and Eames was not known for being a morning person.

The two men groaned in bed and simultaneously turned over—Eames to bury his face in his pillow and Arthur reaching over to shut off the alarm of the clock which was on his side of the bed. Initially, Eames had been the one responsible for waking them up—after all, they were living in _his _apartment—but it was quickly learned that Eames would just shut off the alarm and then go back to sleep, not bothering to alert Arthur, and the two of them would end up sleeping well into the afternoon, completely missing work. It only had to happen once before Arthur decided he would take over the task. Since retiring from extraction, the two had taken on more socially acceptable means of employment that fit their personalities well; Arthur became a corporate lawyer and Eames worked as a criminal profiler in law enforcement.

Arthur squinted to read the time on the clock after shutting off the alarm. It was 7:05am. Arthur let out a soft sigh, leaned back into his pillow, and closed his eyes. He almost sank right back into deep sleep when he felt his lover's arm drape over his chest, and the room was quiet for a few minutes with the exception of the sounds of the two men breathing. Then, suddenly, Arthur's eyes snapped open and he bolted into an upright position.

"_Holy shit!"_

Eames was shocked awake when the covers were flung off him and his flesh was suddenly greeted with the cool temperature of the room. The forger grunted and rubbed at his eyes as he listened to the muted sounds of crashing and Arthur's frantic movements about the room—still half-asleep, his ears were not completely adjusted to the full volume of the activity flurrying around him.

"Bloody hell, Arthur," Eames said gruffly. "What's wrong? What's going on?"

Arthur shook his head. "Look, I don't know how it happened, Eames, but I must have accidentally changed when the alarm would go off on our clocks last night. No idea where my head was; I haven't changed the setting in _years_. Must have though yesterday, for some reason."

"Hm...you don't say..." Eames said tiredly; he was still a little disoriented.

He stretched his body before focusing his eyes on Arthur, and had his mind not been so murky with sleep, Eames may have reacted more appreciatively upon seeing Arthur so dishevled. The man had yet to zip up and buckle the belt of the dress pants sagging slightly at the waist, and he unceremoniously stripped off the t-shirt he was wearing and yanked out of his closet a plain, white dress shirt, which he was now rapidly buttoning. The forger's eyes left Arthur for a split second only to check the time on the clock, which now read 7:15. It took Eames about another minute before everything came rushing back to him and he recalled what he had done the previous evening. A lazy grin formed on the forger's face and he chuckled upon looking at Arthur again; hair yet to be gelled, collar popped, shirt fully buttoned, but not yet tucked in to his pants, which also still needed tending. The point man gave him a well-deserved glare and his jaw clenched once as he swung a tie around his neck. He let it rest there for a moment while he bent his head down slightly as he zipped up his pants. Arthur raised an eyebrow with mild irritation at Eames when he looked up to see the forger looking incredibly amused and making no moves to get ready for the day himself.

"Well?" Eames said, waving a hand nonchalantly. "Don't mind me, darling. Carry on. I'll just sit back here and enjoy the view, if you don't mind."

Arthur's eyebrow arched higher. "You're not in a rush? Did you take off this morning?"

"Hm...indeed I did," Eames said with a lazy smile and a small shrug. "Being one of the bottom rungs of the ladder at the office has its perks—no one really misses you when you're not around."

"Ha! I should have known," Arthur said, shaking his head and now working on his tie. "Well that may be the case for _you_, Mr. Eames, but there are those of us in this room who don't have that kind of luxury and actually need to be _on time_ each day."

"No one ever forced you to work so hard, darling."

"I beg to differ," Arthur countered smoothly. "Someone has to pay all the bills and keep things running. Also, not everyone finds contentment serving in positions far below their true capabilities."

"Touché," said Eames. "That may be so, but I hardly see what all the fuss is about."

Arthur frowned. "You serious? Eames, have you even _looked _at the time? It's now..."

The point man looked at the clock on the dresser before continuing. "7:25! Geezus!"

The forger had to stifle a laugh. He could almost see the wheels turning in Arthur's head as he quickly calculated what time he would most likely get to work based on his commute.

"I'll be an hour late for work! Eames, this isn't funny!"

"Of course it isn't, love," Eames said with mock-seriousness. "Say though, Arthur, you sure it's really 7:25? I mean, it's still rather dark outside."

"What? Eames! All the clocks say it's 7:25—7:29 now, actually—and dark or not, the facts are the facts, so yes, I am _most certain_."

"Well, don't you think it's highly possible we could have had a power surge last night while we were sleeping? Maybe that could have reset everything."

Arthur scrunched his nose. "That might make sense for the digital clocks, but the traditional, battery-operated ones too? The ones we use to reflect all the different world time zones—they shouldn't have been affected."

"Ah, quite true," said Eames. "I actually didn't think of that."

"Huh? Didn't think of?" Arthur blinked. "Eames! Come to think of it, why even suggest the power surge theory in the first place?"

"Hm, why indeed..." Eames said, a twinkle in his eyes.

Arthur's mood changed instantly. His eyes narrowed, though not maliciously, and his mouth opened slightly. The forger knew his lover was starting to make connections that he hadn't made earlier. Eames knew he didn't really have to say it, but he found himself unable to resist.

"You ever take a look at your watch during all this, love?"

The forger could have tampered with that too, if he had wanted to last night—he certainly had the pick-pocketing skills for the task; however, in this case Eames had seen the value in keeping a controlled variable.

"Oh Eames, if you did what I think you've done, then I swear—"

"It's your fault for being too distracted yesterday to notice, don't you think?" Eames said, chuckling. "I mean come now, Arthur, I'm surprised you didn't catch on right away last night."

The point man pouted childishly. "I was tired. It was late. You were smart enough to set _all _the clocks to the same hour. I had just been slammed with a tough case. Any other day and I would have noticed in an instant."

"I know you would have," Eames said with a nod. "That's why I had to plan this out perfectly; wait for just the right moment."

"You're an asshole, you know that?"

Eames grinned. "So you've been telling me almost every other day for as long as we've known each other and been within an arm's length."

"Ha-ha. Very funny, Eames," Arthur said. "You're a real charmer. So, then what time is it really? Or are you going to make me go look at my watch?"

"No, no," Eames said lightly. "I'd be more than happy to tell you the time. One second."

Eames looked at the digital sitting on the dresser. It now read 7:45. The forger looked back at Arthur and smiled.

"5:45."

Arthur blinked. "In the morning?"

It was a stupid question—not that anyone was keeping track. Eames chuckled.

"Of course, Arthur. This whole show wouldn't have run so well had I set it for the evening hours. You would have gotten upset, much like you are now, but then you would have been able to hop right back into bed, sleep it off, and then completely forget about it. Not nearly as entertaining."

"Bastard!" Arthur hissed through gritted teeth.

"Got you pretty good, didn't I?"

"Oh, I'll remember this, Eames, don't you worry."

"And I look forward to seeing how you decide to respond," Eames said with a small bow.

"You're on," Arthur said. "Really though, Eames, what was the point of all this? Just to ensure I'll be growing a few more strands of white hair, as always?"

"Oh come now, Arthur, let's not be over dramatic," said Eames. "Just trying to get you to loosen up a little more, darling."

Eames braced himself for the point man's irritable reply, or even for the impact of a thrown object; however, neither came. Instead, he watched inquisitively as Arthur took a brief glance at his watch. A somewhat cryptic smile formed on the brunette's face, causing the forger's curiosity to grow.

"It's still only ten minutes till six," said Arthur.

The forger's eyebrows furrowed and flicked his tongue over his lower lip, wetting it. "Come again, darling?"

"You want me to loosen up?" Arthur asked.

Eames watched as Arthur's hands reached for his tie. The brunette gave Eames a small smirk as he began to tug at it, undoing the knot.

"I'll show you loosened up," the point man said, cocking his head slightly to one side.

So uncharacteristic was this type of reaction from Arthur that Eames almost completely missed that his lover was actually making a pass at him. When the realization clicked, the forger's mouth fell open slightly at first, but then his surprised expression became a pleased one.

"Well come on back to bed then," said Eames. "Teach me a thing or two."

The point man shook his head, but he was unable to hide his amusement. "Fuck you, Eames."

"_Please_."

Some time later, Arthur let out a sigh of contentment in post-coital bliss. Eames had been most thorough in giving him a rather satisfying experience, and now he was comfortably wrapped in his British lover's arms. At some point he thought to glance at his watch. The time read 7:05am. At first, Arthur thought nothing of it. Then, he did a double-take.

"_Wait a minute_," Arthur thought. _"7:05am? Again?"_

It was a feeling of déjà vu. Arthur tore out of the forger's arms and reached for the clothes he had discarded earlier on their floor. Eames, who had not at all been expecting the sudden movement, ended up accidentally smacking himself in the nose with the back of his hand when Arthur threw the forger's arm off and back at Eames.

"Ow!" Eames exclaimed, rubbing at his nose. "Bloody hell, Arthur, what now?"

Had he not been so confused with the sudden change in ambiance, Eames might have laughed. He was basically watching a replay of the exact same flustered Arthur rushing to get ready like he had been earlier that morning. Once again, the point man gave him an irate glare.

"Unbelievable. _Eames. _Why didn't you say something?" Arthur said, shaking his head. "Now it's actually 7:05, which means I really am going to be late."

The forger groaned. "Honestly, darling. Why can't you let go and enjoy the moment for once? Anyway, there is a rather simple solution to all of this."

"Really? You don't say," said Arthur. "And what, Eames, might that be?"

Eames waved his hand nonchalantly. "Just call in sick, darling. Don't executives do that sort of thing all the time?"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "I'm an _attorney_, Eames. The same rules of flippancy don't exactly apply."

"Oh," Eames said, frowning. "Well, then bugger me. I'm sorry darling."

"Are you?"

"Yes...wait, all right! That's a lie, I admit it! Don't stare at me so."

"I wouldn't, if you weren't such a constant thorn in my side," Arthur said, shaking his head.

Eames pretended to look hurt. "Now Arthur, you don't really mean that, do you?"

"I do, with my whole heart," Arthur said, though he couldn't suppress the slight upturn twitch of his lips.

The forger chuckled. "Dear me, now that just won't do, will it?"

Still in bed, Eames lay on his side as he watched Arthur. A small smile formed on his face as he watched his lover finished tucking in his shirt.

"Lovely..." he murmured. "It never ceases to amaze me how you just take my breath away."

The point man chose to ignore him and began to work on his tie. Eames propped his head up on one of his hands with the arm bent at the elbow.

"Arthur," he said softly. "Will you marry me?"

Almost immediately, the point man stilled in his movements and his hands remained in the position of being about to tighten his tie. Eames watched with mild amusement, despite his feeling of nervousness, at the rapid changes in expression flashing across his lover's face. Arthur quickly went from frowning to a look of bewilderment.

"Eames, what...?"

"I know my timing is terrible, darling, but seeing as how you're so upset, I thought I should make light of this situation somehow."

"Is this a joke?"

"Well, if it were, then it wouldn't be a very funny one, would it?" Eames said. "I mean, considering the fact that you're cross with me."

Arthur frowned. "But you just said you were making light of—"

"You misunderstand me," Eames said, shaking his head. "I mean I'm trying to give you some good news, to offset the bad."

"I..." Arthur trailed off, apparently not sure how to respond.

"We've been together five years, Arthur, and some might argue we've been together longer than that," Eames said, sliding off the covers and getting out of bed. "I can say with confidence that I am head-over-heels in love with you, and that I've known you were the one ever since we first met."

Arthur's eyes grew wide as Eames got down on one knee before him, arms outstretched, in nothing but his boxers. If anyone were to question the sincerity of his actions though, one only needed to look into the man's eyes to know that he was.

"So I ask again," said Eames. "That you consider the thought of making me the happiest man in all the universe and marry me. What do you say, pet?"

"Eames," Arthur said, shaking his head and a small smile forming on his face despite himself. "You are the only man I know in this world that would propose to someone in nothing but a pair of Batman-themed boxers."

"Would you have it any other way, darling?"

"No," Arthur said, laughing softly. "No, I suppose not."

"Then is that a yes?"

"Do you even have a ring?"

"What?" Eames blinked and then a light frown formed on his features. "Oh yes! That's right—fuck all, look at me, I almost completely forgot the most important part. Forgive me, darling."

Arthur shook his head again and chuckled as Eames turned around, climbed over their bed and rummaged around in the dresser on his side of the bed. Judging from the amount of noise the forger was making, Arthur had no doubt in his mind that the British man's drawers were cluttered and were in complete contrast of Arthur's own. It didn't take too long for Eames to find what he had been looking for though, and the forger was soon right back in position in front of Arthur with a huge grin on his face.

"Now then," said Eames. "Let's try this again, shall we?"

Arthur shrugged lightly. "Hm...I suppose."

The forger's smile softened. "Very good. _Arthur_."

Arthur couldn't help but to smile back. "_Yes_, Eames?"

"Marry me, darling, _please_," said Eames. "I'll ask it a thousand times if I have to—I mean look at me, I'm already well in that direction with the number of times I've asked already, don't you think?"

Arthur had been about to reply when Eames opened the ring box he was holding, causing whatever he had been about to say to get caught in his throat. The point man's eyes widened. Eames had taken the concept of size mattering to a whole new level. Still rendered speechless, the only thought that was going through Arthur's mind at that very moment were the words that he had meant to say aloud.

"_Oh, **Eames**."_

"Well, darling?" the forger said with a smile, though his eyes betrayed the slightest flicker of uncertainty. "I'm still waiting on that answer, love."

And Arthur would, but it would take him several more minutes to respond. His hands were still in their same positions around his tie and his jaw was slightly agape. His face transformed from shock, to disbelief, before finally settling on being just plain moved by the whole affair. His smile was soft and filled with such warmth that the point man was practically glowing with happiness. Then Arthur, eventually finding his voice, said the one word Eames most wanted to hear at that very moment.

"_Yes_."


End file.
